Broken

• Chapter 45 •

- ASHTON -

It takes a moment to register what I'm seeing. Clementine is pinned up against the back wall of a building outside my house. My veins suddenly turn to ice, I rush out without slipping my shoes on. I only see red as I approach the piece of scum. I punch him with such a force that he crumples onto the floor with one hit.

"GET THE FUCK OFF HER."

I immediately squat down to Clementine, is she fucking alive? Her body is tremulous, she fades out of consciousness almost immediately.

"Ashton, my man! Long time no see!"

I snap my gaze up to the drunken animal, my heart sinks into my stomach when I recognize him. I grit my teeth as fury seeps through every single bone in my entire body.

He looks down at the girl. "Sorry, man. I didn't know she was taken," he snorts.

The blood begins simmering in my veins. I'm staring at the face of a dead man. This asshole was going to hurt an innocent girl? My hand takes a swing at him, and I find myself on top of him in a matter of seconds. My knuckles are bloody, as is this asshole's face, but fuck as if I'm going to stop now.

Hatred and anger boil up inside of me as the images play on repeat in my head. This man taking advantage of an innocent girl. This man touching her, hurting her, even looking at her. The images switch from Clementine to my mother, and I lose it.

I'm going to kill him.

Violent and disturbing coughs pull me out of my trance, my vision fades back to the bloody mess in front of me. My knuckles are busted up and bruised, this man's face is unrecognizable. Clementine is wheezing. I snap my head back to her painful howls and wince at her screeches.

I stand up, kicking him once more before walking over to her and scooping her up into my arms. She doesn't fight me, nor know who I am, or what's happening. She's as unconscious as it gets.

I run across the street to my house and open the door, carrying her straight to my bedroom. I set her down on the bed before rushing to the kitchen for a glass of water and a first-aid kit.

When I get back to her, I notice red marks across her body. Finger-shaped marks line her collarbone, her neck, her arms. Did he fucking choke her? I instinctively pull her ice cold hands into mine, trying not to puke at the mere sight. I look down to her legs, scared to see anything I don't want to.

I feel the bile rising up my throat at the thought, my face pales. "Oh God," I breathe.

I look out my window to look for the asshole and finish my job by killing him, but he's no longer there. I clench my jaw tightly and swallow my rage, fists tightly balled up. What the hell was she doing out by herself in the middle of the fucking night, anyway? What a fucking idiot.

I look down at her once more, and my heart sinks. It takes everything I have not to scream, not to physically run out there and search every fucking neighborhood, hunt him down and kill him.

I hope to God he hasn't done anything to you, you moron.